If the delicate chip which deceive his broad body wasn't enough to invoke the shivers, the missile strike, skimming unerringly over the turf and past his outstretched hand, is stomach-churning stuff.

Not that Schmeichel should blame himself. No goalkeeper can honestly be expected to repel Brazil's gunslinging attack in full flow. It's the footballing equivalent of Muhammad Ali's claim to dance like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

All three goals against the Danes were crafted from open play, and no team creates openings with quite the same joy as Brazil. They flick the ball around midfield as if it were popping about on a dizzying pinball machine.

Bebeto's opening goal last Friday was a case in point. After the midfield probing and teasing, Ronaldodinks a slide-rule pass to his partner, and bingo! Schmeichel's net billows. It was a not inconsiderable connection between an attacking pair who, even as recently as the opening match against Scotland, had crossed wires. It's all coming together beautifully for Brazil.

Their telepathy is symbolic of how the team are advancing as the tournament progresses. Romario's withdrawal from the squad the week before France 98, which had the prophets of doom ruminating, has been all but forgotten. With Bebeto, having made his telling mark, jogging towards the substitutes' bench to smile and high five with his replacement, there can be no more fearsome sight than the dribbler Denilson, the world's most expensive talent, waiting to be unleashed.

The licence to thrill is Brazil's once more. At times, their devastating interplay shimmers with echoes of the lustrous, legendary team of 1970, and today's enthralling semi-finalists are charged with the challenge of emulating them. No Brazilian side since has straddled thetwin pinnacle of winning hearts and trophies.

History and heritage have become a burden stitched into the sunflower shirts and few have felt the need to measure up to the past as heavily as Rivaldo. For the man chosen to wear the number 10 shirt, the number made `infamous' by Pele and Zico, the number which equates to unimaginable pressure to produce, his dazzling display against Denmark was a personal triumph.

When his country were defeated by Norway in the group stage, Rivaldo admitted to feeling like a scapegoat. "Everyone was asking me why Brazil didn't win, why Ronaldo didn't receive good service. The number 10 is always culpable when Brazil lose, the number 10 must give the ball to Ronaldo. It was as if I was the only one to have lost."

Meanwhile, Ronaldo may not be running away with the golden boot as was widely expected, but there has been a maturity about his game. He draws defenders and plays team-mates into space with a master's touch. "If the team help me, I can help the team," Ronaldosaid. Rivaldo capitalised this time.

It is thanks to the industry and intelligence of his midfielders Dunga, Leonardo and Cesar Sampaio that Rivaldo's free spirit is allowed to roam, and he is beginning to revel in it. That's three goals a piece now for Rivaldo and Bebeto as well as Ronaldo and Cesar Sampaio. Sagely, coach Mario Zagallo insists that his team plays to their strengths, and Brazil have no greater attribute than unpicking the best defences the world can assemble.

It is as well they have such a convention of Merlins at their disposal, because it enables them to reprieve their own vulnerable rearguard: you score, we'll score more, is the necessary philosophy.

Defensive flaws remain do a cause for concern. What on earth was Roberto Carlos thinking of when he launched himself into a completely and utterly mistimed overhead kick in his own box - and there was Brian Laudrup with time enough to make a bacon sandwich before picking his spot beyond Claudio Taffarel? It is the paradox of Brazil.

If Graeme Le Saux or Paolo Maldini had taken such a risk they would be castigated. But being Brazil it's all part of the aesthetic quest. Anyway, it certainly makes for absorbing matches, and Brazil 1998 cannot help but stir the soul.